


A Famine in Your Heart

by wilderswans



Series: Widomauk 30 Day NSFW Challenge [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: 30 Day NSFW Challenge, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dissociation, Fluff, M/M, Molly is Ride or Die, Naked Cuddling, Sex Fail, Soft Widomauk, Unbeta'd, let them be tender!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 14:59:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15221705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilderswans/pseuds/wilderswans
Summary: This is not how Caleb wanted tonight to go.(Day 1 of the 30 Day NSFW OTP challenge: Naked Cuddling)





	A Famine in Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> As a personal challenge to keep myself occupied over the summer, I'm attempting the 30 Day NSFW challenge!  
> I can't guarantee updates every day due to my summer coursework, but I'll try my best to keep this rolling. I apologize sincerely for any mistakes in grammar/spelling/formatting, as this is unbeta'd. 
> 
> As always, you have my sincere thanks for reading and any comments/kudos you feel like leaving. ♥
> 
> (Title from Depeche Mode's Halo, which is my default Widomauk song.)

This is not how Caleb had hoped tonight would go.

 

He’s shaved, he’s bathed, Nott is having a sleepover with the girls, he’s even dismissed Frumpkin for the evening. The Mighty Nein are holed up at a decent inn, one with reasonably soft mattresses and thick walls, and for once, no one is horribly injured or starting trouble in the tavern below. He’d excused himself for the evening after only one tankard of ale, had felt Molly’s eyes on his back as he ascended the stairs, and waited with thudding heart for another twenty minutes before the gentle knock came at the door.

 

This....whatever this is: Caleb wants it. It had been a gut-punch to realize it suddenly, that he could want and apparently be wanted again. He isn’t sure when it happened, exactly, which chafes him and his perfect sense of time to no end. It had simply crystallized on a frosty evening a few weeks ago, in the second watch beneath the distant stars in their inky sky, when Molly had looked at him over the campfire in the middle of their quiet (and, if he was being frank about his side of it, awkward) conversation and said “Mister Caleb” in a way that caused his heart to temporarily seize up, gripped so tight by tenderness he could hardly breathe. Yes, Caleb wants this.

 

But that doesn’t explain why now, in the middle of the proceedings, Molly having shed his ludicrous coat and having deftly gotten them both in a state of acceptible nudity, Caleb’s mind shudders and screeches to a halt.

 

They’ve been kissing for several minutes now, heat rising in Caleb’s chest as he realizes just how tenderly Molly is kissing him, is touching him. He feels somehow fragile, but also infinitely powerful to his core: He is somebody who is wanted, desired, even. The tiefling’s nails raise gooseflesh when he traces his fingers down Caleb’s clavicle, and Caleb breaks into a full-body shiver when the fingers are followed by a soft press of warm lips. Then Molly leans up to kiss him again, Caleb tilting his head and parting his lips with a shaky sigh, and Molly is walking the both of them slowly backward toward the bed like an inevitable force of nature, and Caleb -

 

He doesn’t know what happens, but he comes to in a series of rapid-fire realizations of sensation.

 

First: He’s sitting on the bed, sheets neither soft nor rough against his thighs and arse, feet planted on the cold wooden floor.

 

Second: Molly’s kneeling in front of him, warm hands as gentle pressure on Caleb’s thighs, keeping his balance as he’s peering up at Caleb.

 

Third: He is suddenly very, very cold.

 

“There you are,” Molly says. His softly jovial tone doesn’t match the worry written clear across his face.

 

Caleb stares down at the floor, unsure of where his mind went and mentally cursing. Of course this would happen. Of course he would find a way to ruin it - this one nice thing, this thing he has wanted with this person who treats him better than he deserves...

 

“Caleb, darling,” Molly says, firm enough to remind Caleb he’s still there; he hasn’t gone anywhere. “Do you want to talk about this? We got as far as the bed and you just - turned blank.”

 

“Sorry,” Caleb says, voice cracking, and tries again. “I’m sorry. I -” He clenches his fists, balled up on the sheets next to his thighs. “I have no good explanation, Mollymauk.”

 

Molly considers. Caleb can almost hear the squeak of the wheels turning between his bejeweled horns. “All right,” he says finally. “Do you - would you like me to leave? You can say yes, and I will, and nothing more will be said of it. Not tomorrow morning, not ever.”

 

Everything in Caleb’s body screams in protest at that, at the thought of being left here, cold and wretched and alone. He shakes his head. “No - don’t leave.” On the periphery of his vision, he sees the tension leave Molly’s frame, his swishing tail losing some of its nervous energy. Perhaps Molly can see the loneliness and frustration written in the posture of his own body, for a moment later he reaches up to cup Caleb’s cheek in one calloused hand. Caleb lets his eyes close, sighs against his skin.

 

“What would you like to do?” Molly asks. His voice is infuriatingly gentle. Caleb wants to protest that he doesn’t need to be handled so gingerly, he is not so unstable that he will fracture at a moment’s notice, but deep down the selfish core of him screams that yes, he needs gentle, he needs to be handled with care.

 

Caleb shakes his head against Molly’s warm hand, eyes still shut. “I want this - but I don’t think...I don’t think I can do it, right now.”

 

“All right,” says Molly. “Would you like us to have some clothes on? Would that make you feel better?”

 

Caleb surprises himself when he shakes his head again, vehement. Even if it would only be for a few seconds, not even a minute, Caleb is abruptly aware that Molly leaving, his warm hand leaving Caleb’s cheek, would be akin to ripping off his own eyelids. He feels pressure on the mattress next to his right hand - Molly’s other hand has reached up to take his own.

 

“Lean back,” Molly says, tapping softly at the clenched fist. Caleb takes that as a friendly reminder to loosen his fists; his knuckles are already aching. “No reason for you to be so uncomfortable when we’ve got a decent bed for once.”

 

Between the two of them (or, rather, between one more industrious Molly and one stiffly-moving Caleb), they arrange Caleb so he’s on his back beneath the covers, which are nearly pulled up to his chin. He still feels cold to his bones, his head still wound up in a blank haze tinged vaguely with self-loathing, but when Molly leans over him to kiss his forehead he feels something warm and tender crack in his chest.

 

“Scoot over,” says Molly. “Would you like me to stay on top of the covers? Would that make you more comfortable?”

 

Caleb shakes his head as he wills his recalcitrant limbs into making room for Mollymauk. “Please -” he begins, and doesn’t know what else to say. Luckily for him Molly takes it all in stride, flipping the covers back before sliding under next to Caleb, body close but not quite touching.

 

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Molly says. He stretches out on his side, head propped on his hand, and considers Caleb in the dim light. “Are you all right?”

 

“ _Ja_ ,” says Caleb, with an inward frown. “Well - as much as I can ever be.” Something horrible occurs to him, something he has to voice despite how tight it makes his throat. “Mollymauk, I cannot - I cannot say this is never going to happen again. I want this but I still have so much....my head is not always going to be the most stable place,” he admits. “If you...decide you would rather not deal with this, I would not blame you.”

Molly listens to this, and worries his lower lip between his teeth as he considers. “I want this too,” he says at last. “Hells, Caleb, none of us are the most stable denizens of the Empire. When have I ever given you the impression that that would be a deal-breaker for me?”

 

Caleb huffs something that could be a laugh. “That is fair enough.”

 

“Good,” says Molly. He reaches out to rub his knuckles against Caleb’s cheek, aimless but comforting. “Glad we got that sorted out.”

 

Caleb sighs, closing his eyes as he leans into Molly’s touch. “I am sorry. This was not how I wanted this evening to go.”

 

“I don’t know about that,” Molly says brightly. His thumb strokes across Caleb’s cheekbone, tracing a soft orbit, back and forth. “We’re both naked and in bed, which is a win in my book either way.”

 

“Mm,” says Caleb. Now that he’s finally warming up, the bed rapidly growing comfortably toasty between his and Molly’s body heat, his limbs feel like they are filled with lead. His mind switches over from hazy discomfort to sheer exhaustion.

 

“Touching is okay?” Molly asks. Caleb nods against his hand, and Molly closes the distance between them, curling up against Caleb’s side. In any other circumstance Caleb would shiver from the sheer proximity, the long expanse of Molly’s body, all that bare skin, pressed against his side. In any other circumstance he knows how his body would respond; that had been, after all, the original point of this evening. As he is now, he can only sigh again and bite back a little smile when he feels the pointed tip of Molly’s tail trace gentle, if slightly tickly, patterns against his shin.

 

With some effort he raises his right arm to arrange it beneath Molly’s neck and shoulders, feeling like he did the right thing when Molly makes a delighted little sound of realization and snuggles closer, drawing his legs up to curl against Caleb’s side. So close, like this, Molly is unfathomably warm; the places where their skin touches grows pleasantly humid with sweat. It has been so long since he’s touched somebody like this - since he’s allowed somebody so close. There is a strange sort of pleasure in this too, Caleb realizes belatedly.

 

“How’s this?” Molly asks, somewhere in the proximity of Caleb’s ear. Caleb’s only response is to roll onto his own side, pressing his front to Molly’s, bringing his other arm around Molly’s tattooed shoulders and burying his face against his warm neck. A moment later, Molly drapes his arm over Caleb’s side, rubbing absently at his back before he kisses the side of Caleb’s head. Perhaps, Caleb thinks as he begins to drift, soothed by the soft touch against his back, he didn’t ruin everything after all. Perhaps there can be something salvaged from this.


End file.
